


In the Arms of a Stranger

by bubblebellarina



Series: Project Thornfield Test Shorts [3]
Category: Original Work, The 13th Moon (Original Novel)
Genre: Blood and Gore, Body Horror, Character Death, Gen, Ghosts, Gore, Panic Attacks, eldritch horror
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-20
Updated: 2020-06-20
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:20:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24815995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bubblebellarina/pseuds/bubblebellarina
Summary: "Run!"Mamoru-nii-san screamed, eyes wide with terror."But-""NO! RUN! LYSANDRA, RUN AWAY RIGHT NOW!"In the arms of a stranger, Lysandra cries.How Lysandra met Etoile.
Relationships: Etoile Josepha Antonio | Jemisha | Karin & Lysandra Thornfields | Amy | Sasae
Series: Project Thornfield Test Shorts [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1792879





	In the Arms of a Stranger

_Squelch-creeeeak—splat_

The wet sound of ripping flesh chilled her to the marrow of her bone. Lysandra's eyes were impossibly wide as her mouth parted to scream, however only a quiet, strangled sound left the back of her throat as she stood, her vision filled with red, red, and red.

Her limbs trembled. Shaking uncontrollably as she fell backwards, paliant and paralyzed in the firm grips of terror. Lysandra wheezed, desperately repressing the urge to retch and lose everything in her stomach because Mamoru-nii was just torn _inside out—_

Something on her face felt sticky and warm, the metallic stench filled her to the brim and it made her sick. Her hands are nothing but red, red, red and Lysandra wanted nothing but to _get it off get it away from her_ and _scream scream scream._ Tear her eyes out and cry, cry until she couldn't, cry until her tears end and leave her dry and empty. Leave her empty and hollow so she won't feel, won't feel this _horror-terror-fear-anguish-pain_ won't feel _anything—_

The ghoul stood barely several paces away, pallor bright and contrasting against scarlet as it stood, covered in her cousin's guts and gore. Her legs gave out, and Lysandra landed with a quiet splash in the sea of red. The ghoul's hunched figure was horrifically bony and twisted, broken, distinctively inhuman. Twitching with staccato bursts of static and wet, breathless giggles, looking grotesquely calm and belonging in the ocean of blood. 

Creaking bones sounded as its head bent at an angle that looked wrong . Everything about it is just _wrong_ , from the empty black sockets to its crooked talons, ghost white fangs that stuck out of a half-melted face, and the strings of intestinal skin that hung like spiderwebs.

Black pits that bled tar stared into her very soul, a dislodged jaw twisted open, tearing skin and muscles and tendons as it stretched into a Glasgow grin, black blood spilt past melting lips and poured onto the floor.

A broken, high-pitched whine left her, her back firm against the bark of a tree as she leaned away, hands desperately dug into the dirt, searching for something to ground her. The anguished cry didn't fraze the ghost however, as its writhen body twisted, bones break and stabbed outwards like knives, piercing skin as it bent over and stood, head up-side-down and straining at an eerie angle. The guttural gargle it made not unlike her own.

Lysandra sobbed, it's a faint, wheezing noise as she pressed her back against the tree, yanking at the slippery grass and eyes pleading, terrified but so, so dry. She watched as the thing , the monster rose a skeletal arm, wrenching it back with such force that it twisted and broke it's joints and bones, so that it can hit her, tear her, rake her into pieces and rip her apart.

And disturbing as it is, the idea doesn't sound unpleasant after all.

Kill her. _Kill her_ . It hurts so much. Her heart ached and throbbed and broke with every other beat that reminded her of the reason for her survival. And Lysandra doubts that being torn apart would hurt as much.

Nothing matters anymore.

So she waited. She closed her eyes and waited as her fingers slid off the blades of grass, sleek with blood and fell against the soil. She waited for it to tear into her, rip into her, _end her ._

But nothing happens. The claws never even grazed her. Instead there was the roar of flames and a powerful, crackling sound. A rasping screech sounded, accompanied by the soft splash of footsteps.

She blinked. Her eyes opened and she was immediately greeted by the flare of golden fire, burning bright as the ghoul writhed on the ground, releasing grating, guttural, inhuman screams that stung her ears, leaving loud, white noises and a faint ringing behind. In front of the ghoul stood a woman, a shock of white hair atop a pretty face, marred only by the old burn scar at her jawline.

It was the woman from before. Lysandra realized with a start, the familiar red coat of the customer of the cafe finally registering in her memories, what's her name again? She doesn't remember. Is she a sorceress? But she looks so young, too young. Her attention shifted to the slight glitch that made its presence known with a violent twitch, and _oh_. How could she not see this before? _She is a ghost._

"Your cousin gave his life for you." Seemingly acknowledging her realisation, the ghost spoke. "Are you just going to throw that away?"

Her tone was not accusing, not warm nor cold, but blunt.

Her eyes _burned_.

"... Close your eyes." The woman's strange, fox-like eyes averted as she turned her back to her, figure imposing, powerful but also _protective_ . "This won't be pretty."

Lysandra did as she was told. She closed her eyes then even covered her ears, but the faint sounds of crushing bones and tortured screams still reached her. She covered her ears tightly, squeezing her eyes shut with such force she thought they might never open again, and curled into a tight little ball. She didn't even open them as the screams faded away, too scared to even move.

After what seems like an eternity, a soft hand brushed against her cheeks, then another, lightly plucking her hands away from her ears and taking them in a gentle hold.

"You can open them now." The stranger said. Her voice light and gentle, like a soft breeze and barely a whisper. Lysandra opened her eyes, and was met with the firmly gazing ones of the woman, yellow, gold, or amber? She couldn't tell, all she knew is that they were bright and piercing. Behind her, the clearing is empty. The ghoul was gone, and her cousin...

Mamoru _-nii-san_...

The stranger took hold of her face and gently turned it away.

"Don't look." She said, softly. "Perhaps a little pointless now, but don't look."

Her voice is blunt but not unkind. The stranger gently stroked her hands, and it took a moment for her to acknowledge what she was doing. Lysandra then realized that the blood on her face was gone, and the ghost who now held her hands in her own is quietly brushing her bandages over the red liquid on her fingers, wiping them away without another word.

The burning in her eyes intensified, and gently, slowly, overflowed.

She retracted her now clean hands, trembling, and clenched a fistful of the woman's vest. The ghost paused in her action, seemingly hesitating, before the same hands landed atop her back, cold in death but oddly comforting.

In the arms of a stranger, Lysandra Thornfield cried.

_(Don't cry, Sasae. Please don't cry._

_I know it hurts, I know this feeling, I know this feeling better then anyone ever should, I've been through the exact same thing, too many times._

_It hurts so much that you want to scream and cry until you're dry, until you're empty, but believe me when I tell you that it doesn't work, and it never will. It hurts so much that you want to rip your own heart out so it stops beating, so you stop living, but believe me when I tell you that being dead is worse._

_So don't cry, please don't cry any more, because…_

_This is only the beginning…)_


End file.
